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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28686822">In Your Hands</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkGerberDaisies/pseuds/PinkGerberDaisies'>PinkGerberDaisies</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Bridgerton (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fluff and Smut, One Shot, Porn with a hint of Plot, Set between their reconciliation and the birth of their first child, fluffy interlude</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:08:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,436</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28686822</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkGerberDaisies/pseuds/PinkGerberDaisies</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Running her hand across the smooth silk of her pale green dress, she tries not to audibly sigh at the flat surface beneath her palm. Shades of disappointment casting shadows over an otherwise cheerful morning."</p>
<p>Or, a smutty one-shot set between the ball in episode 8 and the birth of their first child.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Daphne Bridgerton/Simon Basset, Simon Basset/Daphne Bridgerton</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>478</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>In Your Hands</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/slitheredherefromeden/gifts">slitheredherefromeden</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Fair warning: I have not read the Bridgerton books, but I loved the show so here we are! I felt like there needed to be a little bit more before Simon and Daphne had a baby, given their history, so this is an attempt at filling in a gap. </p>
<p>Also, corset-wearing friends, for goodness sake wear a chemise or undershirt or something underneath that thing! I know the show wasn't trying to be 100% historically accurate but for goodness sake don't wear corsets against your skin as an every day thing or you will hurt yourself.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mirrors, as far as estimations of one’s features are concerned, are fickle narrators. One can never be too sure of the quality of the glass, whether it will turn one’s dainty nose into a rotund cherry or give the allusion of a disproportioned waistline. Other reflections may add extra height or invoke morbid disfigurations of the eyes. The truth entirely depends upon the skill of the glass maker. But the mirrors hanging on the walls of the duke’s estate were crafted by expert hands and have no such flaws. They are straight sheets of true-to-life imagery, and no matter how hard Daphne tries, she cannot make her stomach appear rounder than it is.</p>
<p>Running her hand across the smooth silk of her pale green dress, she tries not to audibly sigh at the flat surface beneath her palm. Shades of disappointment casting shadows over an otherwise cheerful morning.</p>
<p>Logically, she knows she shouldn’t be as saddened by this development, or, rather, lack thereof, as she feels. She and the Duke have only been married a mere six months and conception in such a short period of time would be rare enough, but their honeymoon period was also interrupted by their awful misunderstanding and estrangement, and since then their venture into potential parenthood has been tenuous at best.</p>
<p>Making a heartfelt speech in the pouring rain about how love is a choice and confessing her true feelings? Easy compared to the reality of learning to trust again.</p>
<p>Finding those letters between Simon and his father had been eye-opening, to say the least, and a necessary step towards reconciliation. And since then, Daphne has been loathe to push for anything more than Simon is willing to give (having learnt that lesson the hard way), but she cannot deny how she much she longs to be a mother – it was always her greatest wish, second only to marrying someone for love, and now that it might be within her reach again she can hardly wait.</p>
<p>(She’s been blessed to have the latter, is it too much to continue to hope for the former?)</p>
<p>There are still times when they’re together that Simon chooses to finish into a handkerchief or the wrinkles of their bedclothes. Moments when he turns away rather than cleave unto her in his passion and Daphne has to swallow back the urge to ask him about it while the mixture of their sweat cools on her skin. He needs time and patience as he grapples with the effects of his past, and she has chosen to give him ample amounts of both, but as the months progress he has chosen with increasing frequency to allow himself to reach completion inside her, and it’s thoughts of those times that has Daphne flushing with anticipation – not just from the heat that flares between her legs, still so surprising and new, even now (the heat that <em>he</em> taught her to discover, encourage, and satisfy) – but from the knowledge that this act will hopefully one day bring forth her deepest wish.</p>
<p>“Ah! Here you are.” Simon’s voice draws her back from her musings, and he smiles as he turns down the hallway in her direction. His clothing is rumpled from that morning’s ride and his pace brisk, and Daphne quickly drops her hand – praying that he hasn’t suddenly developed the ability to read her thoughts while galloping across the English countryside.</p>
<p>“Here I am.” She tilts her chin up for a good morning kiss, and blushes in surprise when he immediately deepens it – his arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her in close against the solid planes of his body, still cold and slightly damp from the winter air.</p>
<p>He smells like sweat and sun and the woods around the estate mingled with a hint of snow, and while Daphne never cared for such earthy scents when they belonged to her brothers (who quite often used this to their advantage when torturing their sisters), there’s something about Simon that consistently throws her for a loop – turning mundane, commonplace phenomena into earthshattering events.</p>
<p>The image of him rolling up his sleeves at the boxing match flashes behind her eyelids as his soft lips make their way along her jaw, and Daphne can’t contain her whimper. She’d meant to be flirting with the Prince that day, a handsome, kind, decent man who by all accounts was the prize of the season, but instead she’d been staring at Simon’s forearms like a woman hypnotized by a cheap magician in one of those artsy stage shows Benedict likes to drone on about.</p>
<p>It’s that same hypnosis that’s lead to moments like this – allowing him to take whatever liberties he wishes, despite being in full view of any servant who might walk past. Moments in the gardens, his office, the dining room, <em>or</em>, she blushes to think, <em>even up against a ladder or on the stairs. </em></p>
<p>The noises she’s making only seem to encourage him, and Daphne is less shocked than a lady probably should be when she feels the press of the cool glass she’d been staring at moments ago through the thin fabric of her dress as Simon drops his mouth to trace along her collarbone, her hands finding their own way to the back of his head to encourage him. Trapped between the mirror and his chilly riding clothes, she should be freezing, but the increasing flush from his attentions is more than up to the challenge of keeping her warm.</p>
<p>“Daphne,” Simon murmurs her name against her throat, nipping lightly with his teeth and sending shivers down her spine.</p>
<p>“Yes?” She half-whispers, half-moans when his tongue darts out to taste the sensitive skin underneath her jaw. His leg has made its way between both of hers and she can feel his hardness pressed against her thigh, and she tries to feel some sense of shame when she wantonly presses her hips forward to grind against him.</p>
<p>(It doesn’t work, and his own answering moan puts any attempt at complying with the expected behavior of a duchess totally out of her mind.)</p>
<p>“Do you have plans this morning?”</p>
<p>“I -” Her attempt at answering is thwarted by Simon grabbing her bottom and angling her so that he can lightly thrust against her center, and they both pause for a desperate kiss at the sparks of pleasure that small amount of friction provokes. “I told Mrs. Colson we would discuss plans for the ball,” Daphne gasps when they finally break for air, “It is to be our first Christmas ball and I want everything to be perfect.”</p>
<p>Thoughts of their housekeeper and planning for what is to be the event of the winter season seem like nothing but a distant concern now, however, a feeling apparently shared by her husband, whose wandering hands are currently working to raise the hem of her gown above the limits of decency.</p>
<p>“That can wait an hour, don’t you think?” His right hand slips beneath the layers of silk and linen to stroke the bare skin of her thigh, and Daphne inhales sharply, her fingernails scratching the base of his neck when her hands involuntarily clench – making Simon’s eyelids flutter.</p>
<p>“An hour?” He may as well be speaking in Gaelic for all she understands him at the moment. Her brain is far too consumed by the tiny swirls and shapes his thumb is drawing against her skin – his hand creeping ever closer to the place she wants him most.</p>
<p>“Mmm,” Simon hums happily, his kisses turning gentle when his lips return to her mouth. Lingering and persuasive. “Maybe two.”</p>
<p>
  <em>Why must he always be so tempting? </em>
</p>
<p>“Simon,” Daphne starts, her attempt at sounding stern somewhat tempered by the breathlessness in her voice, “It is nearly time for luncheon. What will the servants say if we are late? <em>Again</em>?”</p>
<p>“Nothing to our face, I am sure.” His answering grin is full of mischief, his eyes sparkling with that look that always spells disaster for her hair, and Daphne cannot help the burst of giggles that escapes her mouth when he grabs her hand with eager boyishness and leads her towards the staircase and up to their bedroom.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The latch on the door barely has time to click shut before Simon’s hands are at the laces of her dress, making quick work of them before sliding across her slender shoulders so that the gown falls into a pool at her feet.</p>
<p>Daphne lets her head fall back against his chest, eyelids falling closed when his fingertips begin to trace along the top of her breasts, slipping underneath her chemise to reach the strip of skin accessible above her corset. <em>So close</em>, yet not nearly close enough.</p>
<p>Despite his eagerness downstairs, he seems in no hurry to rush things now that they’re here; content to brush his lips back and forth across her shoulders and the back of her neck while she turns to putty beneath his toying fingers as he runs his palms up and down the front of her corset. But that simply will not do. The flame of desire licks at her skin, a heat only Simon can ease, and it appears as if she will be forced to take matters into her own hands.</p>
<p>Literally.</p>
<p>With Simon so agreeably distracted, Daphne slowly raises her right hand and reaches behind her back – palming him through his trousers without warning and moaning at the hardness she finds waiting for her there, thick and solid and warm. The sight of it had made her nervous, that first night in the inn, confusion about how such a thing could ever be used with her own body clouding any feelings of arousal that might have arisen. But now she knows exactly what kind of pleasure it can bring, to both Simon and to herself, and she doesn’t hesitate to remind him.</p>
<p>“<em>Daphne</em>,” Simon groans into her neck, his breath fanning the whisps of hair there and sending goosebumps across her body, and makes no move to stop her – angling his hips to give her better access.</p>
<p>“Take off your clothes,” She murmurs, more of a request than a command, but insistent all the same, and Simon nods against her before stepping back – his sudden absence only jarring for a brief moment before Daphne spins around to watch him disrobe.</p>
<p>It’s another one of those mundane events she hadn’t thought to consider before meeting him, but now – his dark eyes fixed on her while each item falls to the floor one by one, baring himself with the surety of a man confident in his body – she wonders how the idea never occurred to her that such an act could be so… <em>intimate</em>. So thrilling. With each measure of dark skin he reveals she can feel her heartbeat increase, the wetness pooling between her legs, and she’s nearly overwhelmed by the urge to kiss every centimeter of his body.</p>
<p>He is beautiful. It’s not an adjective often ascribed to men, but she can think of no other word half as worthy. Simon is <em>beautiful</em>, and he is all hers just as she is his.</p>
<p>“Well –“ Simon gestures towards her once he’s completely naked, smirking when she can’t seem to tear her eyes away from the muscles of his abdomen nor the V at his hips that leads to his prominent length. “You appear to be overdressed, my dear.”</p>
<p>His gentle teasing and low chuckle brings her back, and Daphne can feel her cheeks turning bright pink at having been caught so thoroughly entranced. Rather than continuing to tease, Simon merely steps forward with another smile – twirling his finger around to indicate she should turn so that he can undo the laces of her corset.</p>
<p>Normally, the removal of her corset brings relief and deep, luxurious breaths of air, but this morning it does quite the opposite. The looser it gets the harder it is to breathe, and when it joins her dress on the floor it isn’t relief she feels, but intense anticipation.</p>
<p>Her chemise is last to go and then she’s left in nothing but her stockings, thick wool to ward off the winter weather and tied at the thigh with crimson ribbons that contrast well with her pale, creamy skin. It must be an effect Simon appreciates, because he makes no move to untie them, instead taking her hips and guiding her to sit down on the edge of the bed.</p>
<p>He kneels between her legs, using his palms to spread them apart, and although he must have done this dozens of times since their wedding Daphne can still scarcely keep her eyes open at the shocking sight of his face lowering towards her center – turning at the last second to press hot, open-mouthed kisses up the inside of one thigh, then the other. Yet another one of the joys of marriage no one thought to prepare her for.</p>
<p>“Tell me what you are thinking.” He changes course, kissing underneath her bellybutton and then along her waistline from hip to hip, and Daphne shudders and falls backwards onto her elbows. <em>“Daphne.</em>” He stops, arching his eyebrow and waiting for a response.</p>
<p>“What?” Drawing in a breath, she reaches out to touch his head in a futile attempt to get him to put his mouth where she really wants it.</p>
<p>“I asked,” He pauses, licking a stripe along the crease where her thigh meets her hipbone, amusement evident in his voice, “What you are thinking.”</p>
<p>“I am thinking that there should be less talking right now and more –“ She blushes and clamps her mouth shut, her sense of propriety too strong to allow her to speak the words aloud.</p>
<p>Her husband, curse his name, lifts his head completely at her reticence, a wicked smile spreading across his face. “More what?”</p>
<p>“More,” She flounders, grasping for a word that won’t make her feel like a sinner at church on Sunday, “More kissing.”</p>
<p>“Kissing where?” He surges forward without warning to take a nipple in his mouth, laving it with his tongue before sucking and making her cry out and fall back against the bed. “Here?” He asks, trailing his lips across her sternum to her other breast. “Or here?”</p>
<p>He gives the other nipple the same treatment, before alternating back and forth between each one in turn, bringing up his hands so that whichever one isn’t currently being kissed does not remain neglected for long, and it is only a matter of seconds before she’s a writhing mess – unconscious of the moans and whimpers falling freely from the back of her throat, only capable of clasping wildly onto his shoulders and holding on in a feeble attempt at preventing her soul from completely leaving her body.</p>
<p>Eventually his ministrations turn soft and gentle, his kisses warmer and more affectionate than sweet torture, and each one leaves behind tingles in its wake that have her at the edge of a great precipice, waiting to plummet over the edge at his instruction.</p>
<p>“Does that satisfy you?” He nuzzles into her chest, turning his head to the side so that he can hear her thundering heartbeat, and Daphne huffs in frustration. The tenderness of his action belies the inherent mockery in his question, and they both know it.</p>
<p>“Simon,” She complains, halfheartedly shoving his shoulder, “That is not what I meant, and you know it.”</p>
<p>“How can I know what you mean if you do not say it?” He shoots back, tilting his head so that his chin is propped up and he can look at her with an overly innocent expression, and <em>ooh</em> if only it would not have such negative ramifications for her, she would send him away for such impertinence. “We once joked that you were a general commanding her troops, so,” He shrugs, his voice dropping, “Command me.”</p>
<p>“But,” She hesitates, biting her lip, “What if I were to command something you did not want to do?” Keenly aware of their penchant for misunderstanding one another, she cannot abide the thought of asking him to do something that would make him unhappy. Not after everything that’s passed between them.</p>
<p>“My love, there is nothing you could ask that would make me unhappy, and if there were, I would tell you. Giving you pleasure gives me pleasure – you need not feel embarrassed.” Lifting himself up, he presses a deep, reassuring kiss to her lips, and it’s all she needs to relax again in his arms. “Now – <em>where </em>would you like me to kiss you?”</p>
<p>Emboldened by his words and actions, Daphne tamps down the urge to blush once more and duck her head and instead stares him straight in the eyes. “Between my legs, if you please, Officer.”</p>
<p>His laughter isn’t exactly the seductive effect she was going for, but she can’t help but join in with the infectious sound, and they’re both still laughing when his mouth finds her center – effectively turning her giggles into moans with the expertise of his tongue.</p>
<p>Never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined such sensations were possible. She’d never known enough to dream of sexual gratification at all – not until Simon’s murmured instructions that day by the lake – and even then she’d barely scratched the surface of possibility before finding herself married to the very man who had consumed her thoughts during both day and night. He’s opened up an entirely new world to her, and Daphne pries her eyelids apart so that she can watch him do it all over again.</p>
<p>He lifts one of her legs to rest on his shoulder and wraps his mouth around her clitoris (her old governess would be delighted by the expansion of her vocabulary these past few months… delighted, or perhaps scandalized), and alternates between flicking it with his tongue and sucking on it, never lingering too long on one technique – ensuring that she can neither grow accustomed to what he’s doing, nor reach her climax too quickly.</p>
<p>
  <em>Aggravating, wonderful man. </em>
</p>
<p>“Simon,” Daphne pleads, jerking her hips when he presses his tongue flat against her and licks from her entrance to her clit, “<em>Please</em>.”</p>
<p>“Do you have another command for me, General? Is my work not satisfactory?” He winks, already fulfilling her next request before she can voice it aloud by sliding one of his fingers inside her, crooking it just <em>so, </em>and Daphne's teeth clack in her haste to hold back the rather embarrassingly loud sound she was about to make.</p>
<p>She already suspects the maids sometimes listen at the door, and she won’t give them more cause to eavesdrop than they already have.</p>
<p>This, however, seems to upset Simon because he frowns and leans back on his heels. “How am I supposed to follow your commands when you will not voice them? Honestly, Daphne, you are quite an intractable general this morning.”</p>
<p>She lets out a rather unladylike groan and sits up, cupping his face in her hands and fixing him with a look. “You, my lord, may not pay heed to your reputation amongst the household staff, but I cannot forget my own. What shall they think of me if all day and all night they hear me crying out so indecently and appearing thoroughly debauched? They shall accuse me of being a loose woman, if they don’t already.”</p>
<p>Simon stands, chuckling at her protestations, and encourages her to move backwards on the bed and lay her head on the pillows, giving him ample room to settle in above her. “No one, my lady, who has spoken with you for more than a second could ever accuse you of that.”</p>
<p>“Are you saying I’m a prude?” Daphne cocks her head and pokes him in the ribs, and he laughs.</p>
<p>“I would say,” He drops his voice to a murmur and drags his nose along her cheek, his lips barely grazing her skin, before kissing underneath her ear, “You are very pure, despite my best attempts to lead you astray.”</p>
<p>With that he slides his cock (another new word) inside her welcoming heat (he’s taught her a word for that too, but she can’t bring herself to use it quite yet) and they groan in unison at the sensation of being joined as one. A feeling that never ceases to amaze, no matter how many times they’ve enjoyed this act since their wedding night.</p>
<p>They move in unison, her hips rising to meet each thrust of his own, stealing kisses between breathless gasps for air, and Daphne makes good use of all the knowledge she’s gleaned so far.</p>
<p>She drags her fingernails down his back – not too soft and not too hard, paying extra attention to the sensitive area at the base of his spine just the way he likes (she knows when she's done it right because he makes <em>that </em>sound in the back of his throat, desperate and involuntary) – and clenches around him, making his rhythm stutter for a moment before picking back up with increased urgency.</p>
<p>“Will you stay?” She reaches lower to grab his backside and clenches her muscles again, hoping he’ll understand, unable to meet his eyes lest she find evidence that he might deny her request, despite his earlier claims that she was free to ask for whatever she wanted.</p>
<p>“Daphne?” His thrusts slow as he tries to catch her eyes, and, given their current proximity, she has no choice but to let him.</p>
<p>“You don’t have to,” She quickly states, already shaking her head, “Not if it makes you uncomfortable. You just – you said I should ask and - I would very much like – will you? This time?”</p>
<p>She drops her gaze again and Simon comes to a complete stop, shifting his weight so that he can affectionately cup her jaw. “My love, look at me.”</p>
<p>Helpless to deny his request, she does, searching for signs of sorrow or distress but finding only devotion and understanding reflected back at her.</p>
<p>“You would like me to stay when I reach my climax?” He starts moving again, slow and deep, caressing her neck before slipping his hand underneath her back to encourage her hips to meet his again. “To come inside you.”</p>
<p>Arousal inexplicably shoots through her body when he says it like that, and she nods almost frantically, lacing her fingers together behind his neck and holding on as he speeds up – his thrusts never lessening in their depth despite the increasing frequency. “Yes, Simon.”</p>
<p>“Do you like it when I come inside you, Daphne?” He tilts his body, his cock hitting her just right, and she falls apart – unable to stifle her cries of pleasure as she comes around him, the euphoria drawing out even longer when Simon spills his seed inside her, just as she’d asked.</p>
<p>Breathless and sated, he falls to the side – leaving one arm resting across her abdomen and tucking his face into her shoulder.</p>
<p>It’s quiet in the aftermath of their lovemaking, the only sounds in the room coming from their labored breathing as it slowly evens out, and Daphne basks in the delicious satisfaction settling in her bones. The kind that leaves her feeling wonderfully lethargic and happy.</p>
<p>That is, until her thoughts from earlier in front of the mirror return, disrupting her peace and itching to be addressed.</p>
<p>Still, she waits as long as she can. Counting to sixty and then back down again in a futile attempt to avoid the questions she’s not so sure she wants answered.</p>
<p>“I can hear you thinking,” Simon teases, pretending to be annoyed even while lazily slinging one leg over hers and kissing her shoulder, “Either speak or put your mind at ease. Or, speak to put your mind at ease, as the case may be.”</p>
<p>“You still…” She starts and then stops, second-guessing herself before deciding the wording of her question will have little effect on the outcome, “You still have reservations about having children, don’t you?”</p>
<p>He freezes, his muscles tensing, and she scrunches her eyes shut with instant regret.</p>
<p><em>Why must she be cursed with such a doggedly persistent personality</em>? Oh, to be like Anthony, who can drink away his worries without fear of judgment. Or Colin, who waltzes through life blessed with a jolly, carefree attitude. No. No, she has to be <em>stubborn</em>.</p>
<p>Another moment passes, and Simon relaxes again, although this time sounding much more awake than he had before she opened her mouth and ruined their serenity. “I will probably always be nervous at the prospect, yes.”</p>
<p>“Is that why you don’t always like to <em>finish</em> with me?” Simon might be comfortable using words like orgasm and ejaculate and sometimes even <em>fuck </em>(she whispers the word in her mind, wondering if God can still hear it even now), but Daphne still isn’t quite used to it after a lifetime of ignorance. “You haven’t decided if you want children?”</p>
<p>Simon props himself up on his elbow so that he can look down at her, and Daphne reaches for the bedsheets, covering her body in a perhaps fruitless, but necessary attempt at steeling herself against her sudden vulnerability.</p>
<p>“I don’t mean to put pressure on you, Simon, I just wish to know what you are thinking.”</p>
<p>“I am thinking…” The corner of his mouth crooks up and he reaches out to play with the loose ends of her tangled hair. “I am thinking that you are a beautiful woman and that I am truly blessed to call you my wife.”</p>
<p>A twinge of annoyance flashes through her at his avoidance, the evidence of which she’s certain he catches in her expression, but she can’t help but smile softly at the compliment.</p>
<p>He gently brushes her hair away from her forehead, contemplating his next words, and his brow furrows as he grows more serious. “I cannot deny that the idea of having children still scares me. There are old hurts, old fears, that, though they are fading with time and with your help, still haunt me. But if – no – <em>when </em>the lord chooses to bless us with offspring, I shall love them with every ounce of my heart.”</p>
<p>Daphne surges upward, kissing him solidly on the mouth with as much vigor as she possesses, hoping to convey just how much his words mean to her, and Simon reciprocates with equal fervor.</p>
<p>“You are going to make the most wonderful mother, Daphne.” He moves over her again and she spread her legs to make room for him, cradling him between her hips and wrapping her arms around his shoulders to pull him in for another kiss.</p>
<p>“And you the most wonderful father.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>C, my dear friend, you requested this fic and I hope it is everything you asked for. &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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